Gravity Falls (and so does Stan)
by Britt30
Summary: Stan and Ford are excited for the kids to get back and decide to surprise them by decorating their room with some cool, glow-in-the-dark rocks from the caves near Gravity Falls lake. However, when rope bridges don't work as they're supposed to, their day takes an unexpected turn and one of them might not make it back. Warning for major character death.


**A/N: Hey guys! This was a commission piece for the lovely pessimisticvirtuoso! (Yall should go check out their stuff on Wattpad, they're amazing). Anyhoo, please enjoy! Or cry! Or both!**

The morning dawned bright and early for Stan. Awoken by the sound of what sounded like a raccoon (or a beautiful man), trashing his kitchen, he got up and meandered out of his room, broom in hand, ready to confront whatever he found.

It was not a raccoon or a beautiful man trashing his kitchen, but his own brother. Ford had his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows and was frantically fanning the burning pan of what Stan thought might have at one point been eggs.

"Ford, what are you doing? You know you can't cook."

"Yes, well, I thought I'd surprise you."

"Consider me surprised bro. When did you get up?"

"Around 3. I was too excited to go back to sleep."

"Excited- why were you- THE KIDS!"

Ford nodded, grinning enthusiastically. "They get back today."

Stan hurried back to his room to get ready for the day. He was so excited to see his niblings, he could barely stand it. No wonder Ford had been up so long.

"We should do something special for them," Stan said, taking the egg pan from Ford and gesturing for him to grab some plates.

"Way ahead of you. I just remembered that in the caves behind the waterfall there are these luminescent rocks! They glow quite brightly and are said to change color depending on the mood of whoever touches them. I was thinking we could get some to decorate their room with."

"Great idea Sixer. Let me salvage breakfast and then we can go."

"Shall I tell Soos where we're going?"

"Nah, I'll just leave him a note for when he gets in today. We won't be gone too long."

"Very well. I'll go gather the equipment we need while you finish _salvaging _the breakfast as you put it."

Ford narrowly missed the spoonful of egg that was thrown at him as he ducked out of the room and couldn't help but laugh. He was looking forward to going back to the caves. It was a beautiful little ecosystem all its own. There were some sketchy bits they would have to climb, but it was nothing they couldn't handle.

It was shaping up to be the perfect day.

* * *

"Stan! STAN!" Ford waited, praying for an answer from his brother, but he was met only with silence. "STAN!" His desperate scream echoed off the cave walls and down the gulf that split the cavern floor. The remains of the rope bridge they had crossed- _almost_ crossed- now dangled uselessly down the hole.

Everything had been fine.

And then, in an instant, it wasn't.

Crossing the rope bridge the first time had been fine. Crossing it the second time, they were laden with rocks, joking and laughing and just oh so excited to see their favorite niblings in the whole world. Stan bumped into him from behind, laughing at something Ford had said, when the bridge started swinging dangerously.

"Woah!"

And then came the unmistakable sound of a rope snapping. They had just an instant, a single moment of eye contact, before Stan shoved Ford forward onto stable ground before the bridge gave way completely and Stan fell into the abyss.

"Stan!" Ford called again, crawling to the very edge and peering down. "Stan, answer me!"

He held his breath, straining his ears for any sort of sound when he heard, ever so faintly, a cough and a quiet, sarcastic, "No."

Ford could have cried. "I'm coming! Hang on!"

How to do it, how to do it? Ford had some rope on him, but would it reach to the bottom? How deep was the chasm? What sort of state was Stan in? Should he go get help?

Wait! Struck with inspiration, Ford lunged for the backpack and dug through it, triumphantly pulling out the "shrink-ray" Dipper had made. He could use that on Stan if he needed to. He shoved it back in the pack and slung it on his shoulder, keeping the rope in his hand. Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Ford tied the rope to the post and began to rappel down… and down… and down.

Stan had been the one with the lantern. The light from the entrance of the cave ((they had been so _close_)), quickly faded as he descended further.

"Stan? Can you hear me?" he called. He didn't have much rope left.

"Yeah." The voice was strained, most definitely in pain, and relievingly close.

"Hang on," Ford breathed. He shimmied down, until he was just holding the rope with his hands, legs and torso dangling, and dropped.

Ford grunted as he landed; it felt like it was around a ten foot drop, maybe a bit more. He could hear Stan breathing close by, but it was pitch black down here. Ford dug through the back pack and pulled out some of the rocks, causing them to light up with a startling rich purple, bringing some light to the dismal scene.

Ford glanced around and felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured down his spine. He and Stan were perched on a ledge about ten feet long that extended maybe three feet before continuing to drop into nothing. Ford took a shuddering breath before turning around and crawling over to Stan.

It was bad, oh it was so, so bad. "I'm here, Stan, I'm here, I made it."

He lay on his side, legs badly twisted- he must have landed on them. The arm he lay on had to be broken too. And who could guess what the internal damage was like. It had to have been at least a three story drop, if not more- there had to be internal damage. _What were they going to do?_

Ford's panicked train of thought was cut off as Stan whispered, "Ford, I can't feel my legs."

Ford swore. He crawled around to Stan's head. Oh gosh, there was blood.

"Broken spine most likely," he muttered. "Oh Stan, I'm so sorry."

"Wasn't your fault Sixer. What do you think? Can we-" He stopped, cut off by a vicious cough. Blood mixed with saliva came out, staining the ground beside him. The rock Ford was holding spiked red before toning back down to deep purple. "Can we get out of here?"

"I have the shrink ray. I could shrink you and put you in my pocket or in the backpack, but I don't know-" His breath hitched. "I don't know if your condition is stable enough. I could go and get help, but I don't know how long that would take and-"

"It's okay, it's… it's too late, okay?"

"Stan, _no._ Do not say that. We'll get you out. The-the kids! The kids are coming tonight, remember? You have to be there to- you have to be there to see them."

"Ford." Ford stopped. "Just… just hold me. Stay, for a minute."

"I-" _When had he started to cry?_ "Okay."

He readjusted himself, gently lifting Stan's head to rest in his lap and intertwining his six fingers with Stan's good hand. The fingers on his broken arm twitched. Ford pulled the backpack closer and pulled out another rock, setting it next to Stan's hand. His fingers brushed it and it pulsed with a bright yellow light. It was calming. Ford pulled a couple more closer and the chasm lit up.

"Do you remember that kraken we fought on our second day out at sea?"

"Y-yeah. It came out of nowhere."

"I harpooned it right in the eye," Stan boasted. "And we laughed about it."

"Yeah…" Ford trailed off. "Do you remember the yeti that helped us when we got lost?"

"They were nice. Gotta say I prefer the merfolk though." Ford snorted.

"Of course you do."

They were silent for a moment, letting the warmth of the light and shared memories wash over them.

"We never did find any pirates though."

"Unless you want to count your old cartel buddies."

"Yeah, no," Stan laughed and coughed. Ford quirked an eyebrow as the light faded from yellow to a light blue. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"This," he scoffed. "Everything. Just… everything."

"_Stan, _you have _nothing _to apologize for. We've talked about this."

"I know, I know, but I just wanted to make sure… you knew."

"I do. I do Stan. And… thank you. _Thank you_ Stan, for everything."

Stan's breath hitched and the blue brightened to lavender.

"Without you," Ford continued. "I wouldn't have made it back. I wouldn't have met the kids. We wouldn't have defeated Bill. Everything I have now… as counterintuitive as it may seem… I have because of you. So, thank you."

They were both crying now. Stan's breaths were getting shallower. His breathing hitched again and he shifted, letting out a hiss of pain. He squeezed Ford's hand tight.

"I love you Sixer. And tell the kids and Soos and Wendy- all of 'em- that I love 'em."

"Stan-"

"_Tell them._"

A pause. A breath. A sigh. "I will. I love you too Stan."

Ford waited for a reply, some sort of quip, _something,_ but instead the golden and lavender light began to fade far too quickly and, within seconds, went out completely, leaving Ford in the dark and the silence.

It was the silence that hurt the most.

Like a wave crashing into him, a sob tore from his throat and echoed off the cavern walls. His best friend, his brother, this couldn't have happened. _Shouldn't _have happened. Ford continued to sob, tears raining down, landing on his glasses, falling off the end of his nose. He sniffled, trying to ease the tightness in his throat- he needed to do something—no.

He needed to mourn.

Another sob burst out followed by who knew how many more. Ford didn't know how long he sat there, Stan's head heavy on his lap. Eventually though, his crying quieted; there was more in him, but now it could wait. He had to get back to the Shack- had to get Stan's body- he could barely stand to think about it and the tears started fresh.

This time he paused when he realized the light was coming back. The stone next to Stan's hand began to flicker with a pale yellow, almost green, light. _What on earth? Don't- don't give me hope._

Stan's finger twitched and something sparked blue and Ford's hope began to melt into unease. His eye snapped open to reveal a slit pupil, the rest of it a burning yellow, that rolled until it focused on Ford and he smiled.

Ford reeled back, every other feeling replaced with a primal fear and the urge to get away because that was _not _Stan and it couldn't- it couldn't be-

Not-Stan stood on his broken legs and brushed himself off.

"Heya Sixer. Been a while, huh? _Miss me?"_

**A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the angst. If you'd like to commission me, send me a PM! **


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